Bad Luck
by Yao Kafei
Summary: "It's bad luck to have a woman onboard, too. Even a miniature one..."


Disclaimer: I own nothing, and am not getting paid for writing this. Me no like litigation. Please refrain from suing. 

-^-^-^-^-^- 

There are some days when all is right with the world. This was not one of them for Joshamee Gibbs. 

Early that morning, he'd learned his ship was bound for Port Royal, Jamaica. That was well enough. It would also be taking passengers: the new Governor and his little daughter. Joshamee wasted no time telling his mates what he thought of that. Women on board are bad luck – they make the sea angry. 

In Gibbs' mind, superstitions had _power_. Throw a stone over a vessel when it leaves port, and it won't return. The belief is sensible, with an unassailable logic. The sea, like anyone else, doesn't take kindly to being hit by a rock. Naturally, it looks around to see who threw it. The ship, being significantly larger than the little bastard with the good arm, blocks said bastard from view. Satisfied it has found the culprit, the sea yells, "Oh, was that you 'Indefatigable'? Well, you'll be sorry! You won't be throwing any more stones, I'll tell you that much!" The ship perishes, the sea gets its revenge, and nothing much happens to the little bastard with the good arm. 

Quality superstitions take away the sense of random chance in the universe. It's replaced by the sense that the person pulling the strings is _really_ petty. 

Gibbs was uneasy. Rules were rules, and he tried not to break them. Trying to calm his nerves, he spent the rest of the morning at a local tavern. From his da, Gibbs learned that nothing calms the mind like a good stiff drink. He'd also learned from his da that good things were worth repeating. Gibbs had been faithfully repeating his good thing for roughly three hours. 

After the tavern owner politely asked Gibbs to leave, having learned the sailor lacked funds, he made his way to the docks. The ship was a beauty, securely berthed, Marines already on deck with their red uniforms bright in the afternoon sun. A man in a long black wig, who Gibbs assumed was the Governor, was busy talking to Lieutenant Norrington. A little girl, his daughter, stood a few feet away. Her luggage was by her side. 

Her _black_ luggage. 

A chill slowly crept up Joshamee's spine. It was bad luck to have black luggage on a ship. That's common knowledge. Gibbs' eyes narrowed to slits as he glared at the child. She'd need watching on the voyage; heaven only knew what other foul tidings she'd bring. 

He stooped down, picking up a sack of grain, while the Governor and Elizabeth boarded. It was fortunate he hadn't seen her board the ship. She'd stepped onto the main deck with her left foot first. 

That, of course, was bad luck. 

-^-^-^- 

The second day of the voyage brought with it a strong wind and high moral amongst the crew. Gibbs was particularly proud, and he grinned as he went about his duties. Harris, another sailor, cast a wary eye on his friend. Joshamee was a bit _too _happy. 

He was happy for a reason: Gibbs had countered Elizabeth's bad luck. 

Oh, it took careful planning. There was also theft involved, but Gibbs was only thinking of the welfare of the ship. A single, silver coin was nothing compared to that. The coin was a sailor named Hagman's. He was busy up in the rigging, humming to himself. While Hagman was preoccupied, Gibbs had rifled through his friends possessions, taking the coin. Then he placed it by the masthead. 

Placing a silver coin under the masthead brought good luck, and a successful voyage. It's good luck because – 

Moving right along, Gibbs hadn't placed the coin _directly_ under the masthead but it was close enough for him. 

Deeply inhaling the sea air, Gibbs sighed in contentment. All was well with the world. Quick footsteps pattered behind him, and he turned to see Elizabeth run by. He smiled at her, tipping his hat as she passed. 

"Father!" the little girl yelled. Governor Swann was deep in conversation with Lieutenant Norrington. He didn't respond until little Elizabeth was at his side, tugging the end of his jacket. 

The Governor gave an exasperated smile to Norrington before looking down at his daughter. "Elizabeth, you shouldn't run around like that," he gently scolded. Seeing her frown, he added, "_or_ cry out. It's not proper for a young lady." 

"Yes, father," she said, lightly kicking the ground with her right foot. 

"Now what is it?" he asked. 

"Look!" she urged. Elizabeth held up her tiny fist and opened it. Gibbs could only see a glint of the sun reflecting off the object. She told her father, excitedly, "I found it by the masthead! Isn't it pretty?" 

Gibbs whimpered. She'd taken the coin. She'd taken the bloody coin! Was she deliberately damning the voyage? It couldn't be accidental. Joshamee Gibbs didn't believe in accidents – those were for ignorant people that didn't know the proper way to throw salt. 

"I'm sure one of these fine sailors dropped this," Governor Swann told her, gesturing to the quarterdeck. She pouted, looking up at her father with sad eyes. The corners of Norrington's mouth twitched, beginning to form an amused smile. 

"It's quite all right, Governor Swann. I doubt we'd be able to ask my crew who'd dropped a silver coin on deck, and get an honest reply. We'd be witness to an entire ship of men who'd dropped the same coin," Norrington told the other man. Elizabeth grinned up at the Lieutenant, then at her father. 

"Oh, very well," the Governor said, patting his daughter on the cheek. She skipped towards the starboard side and, coincidentally, Gibbs. 

"Be careful lass," he grumbled as she leaned over the side, entranced by the waves. Elizabeth looked up at him, wide eyes filled with curiosity. 

"Why? I won't fall in and drown," she told him, very matter-of-factly for a ten-year-old. His eyes widened and his knuckles were white from tightly gripping the rail. 

"Don't say that word!" he whispered furiously. She had to be doing this on purpose. 

Elizabeth looked confused. "What word? Drowning?" she asked. 

_"It's bad luck to say 'drowning'!"_ he shouted, panicking. 

"Mr. Gibbs!" boomed Lieutenant Norrington. Joshamee Gibbs turned around slowly, looking up at the furious Lieutenant. 

"Yes, Lieutenant?" he asked, hesitantly. 

"You will refrain from speaking to Miss Swann with that tone," he ordered. Gibbs nodded. 

"Aye, sir." 

Governor Swann stepped forward. "Elizabeth, come here," he told his daughter. She trudged towards him, looking over her shoulder at Gibbs. She smiled innocently. 

"Bad luck…" muttered Gibbs. 

-^-^-^- 

"It's deliberate. I tell you, it's deliberate!" Gibbs ranted. Harris and Hagman stared at him like he was a madman. 

Hagman put a hand on Joshamee's arm. "Don't you think you might be imagining it? She's just a child," he told him. The light from the lamp reflected off Harris's glasses, as he leaned forward to grab his bread. 

"Absolutely," said Harris. "She's only ten. She's not _trying_ to set you off." He took a bite out of his bread. Reaching inside the sack that sat next to him, he pulled out a book. Gibbs stared at him in shock. 

"Yer going to read at a time like this?" he cried. 

Harris rolled his eyes. "Time like what? I'm not going to stop enjoying myself because you've gone daft," he snickered. 

"Lay off, you two," said Hagman, sighing. 

Indignant, Gibbs rose from the table and marched out to the quarterdeck. A gentle breeze drifted across the deck, everything bathed in the pale glow of moonlight. The other sailors on deck continued their routine, taking no notice of him. 

_Squeak! _

The door to the forecastle opened slowly, hinges badly in need of oil. A miniature figure peeked out behind it, trying to avoid being seen. She wasn't very good at it. Gibbs closed his eyes and grumbled, hoping the girl would go away. 

Elizabeth was curious about Mr. Gibbs. He seemed to be scared of the silliest things but he also reminded her of a large stuffed bear - gruff but sweet. Elizabeth jogged across the deck to him, stopping abruptly when she was five feet away. Patting her curls, she checked to see that the tiny flower tucked behind her ear hadn't fallen out. Gibbs hadn't opened his eyes yet. 

Flowers are bad luck for a straightforward reason: people put flowers on other people's graves. If someone has flowers on a ship, someone else is about to leave the mortal coil so they can be used. The departed spirits look on, complaining, "Peonies? I've gots to go to Davy Jones' Locker 'cause Billy wanted to bring _peonies?!? _They ain'teven _good _peonies.The one's our Charlotte grew, now they was _good_ peonies…_"_

Then they turn into seagulls. It's a welcome change. After a lifetime under the rule of strict superstition, a life comprised of eating, having sex, flying in circles, and crapping on other people's stuff starts to look pretty good. 

Coincidentally, it's bad luck to kill a seagull. 

"Hello, Mr. Gibbs," Elizabeth said. Joshamee's mouth twitched but he didn't say anything. He didn't open his eyes. 

"Good evenin' ta you, Miss Elizabeth," he replied. 

She tilted her head to one side, staring at him. "Why are your eyes closed?" she asked. 

Gibbs bit his lip and his brow furrowed. "Err… Ye see, well…" he stuttered. 

Elizabeth clapped her hands together. "I know! You've gotten something in your eye!" she whispered excitedly. 

Gibbs mentally shrugged; it sounded as good a reason as any. "Absolutely, Miss Elizabeth. Keepin' em closed for a minute te make sure they're fine," he told her. The truth was he was at wits end for the day, terrified of what she'd do next. 

She nodded, and then clasped her hands behind her back. "I just wanted to let you know I won't say the 'D' word again," she told him seriously. 

"The 'D' word?" he asked, not understanding. 

"You know, drow…" 

"_Yes_!" he cut her off rather loudly, wincing as soon as he'd said it. "Yes," he repeated, this time at a whisper. "Very good. No more 'D' word. Bad luck to say the 'D' word." 

Elizabeth's eyes narrowed, a question forming in her mind. "What do you say if someone _does_ the 'D' word?" she asked. 

Joshamee looked quite proud for someone who wouldn't open his eyes for fear of looking at a ten-year-old girl. "We say they've gone to Davy Jones' Locker," he explained. 

She thought about asking who Davy Jones was and what was in his locker but decided against it. Mr. Gibbs was so easily upset. "Okay," she replied. "G'Night, Mr. Gibbs," she said, yawning. 

"Good night, Miss Elizabeth," he replied. 

She walked back towards her cabin. Gibbs listened to her tiny footfalls move off in the distance, muttering, "That wasn't that bad…" 

The footfalls stopped. Then they grew louder as she pattered back to him. He opened his eyes in shock, forgetting to keep them sealed shut. She took the flower from behind her ear and held it out to him. "Mr. Gibbs, this is for you," she said. 

His mouth opened and closed like a fish, no sound coming out. He took the flower from her, feeling quite numb. She smiled happily and ran back to her cabin, not stopping this time. 

Clutching the flower, he stood there for nearly ten minutes, not moving. That was how Harris and Hagman found him when they came to start their shift. They looked from the flower, to Gibbs' face, then back to the flower. 

"Gibbs, you know it's bad luck to bring a flower on board," chastised Harris. Hagman winced at the frightened look on his friend's face. 

Joshamee Gibbs whimpered. 

-^-^-^- 

The following weeks were much calmer for Gibbs. They'd come across the wreck of a ship destroyed by pirates, picked up the sole survivor of the attack, and they'd been stuck in heavy fog. It wasn't that those facts didn't worry Gibbs; they certainly did. It also bothered him that he'd caught Elizabeth singing a pirate song. The wine helped. 

He'd snuck into the Lieutenant's quarters when he knew Norrington was out and stole a bottle of wine. At night, he'd crept out of the crew quarters and poured it on the deck. Nothing could undo that good luck charm. 

It was mildly unsettling how Norrington had taken to narrowing his eyes and glaring at him whenever he passed by, after seeing a red stain on the quarterdeck the following morning. 

Gibbs glanced over at the two children. Elizabeth was clearly excited, nearly bouncing with energy. Young Will Turner was more sedate but seemed to be enjoying Elizabeth's enthusiasm. His normally shy, guarded features were lit by a tentative grin. 

She grabbed his hand, surprising the boy, and dragged him towards the stairs going below decks. 

Hagman walked over to Gibbs, laughing quietly. "Cute little devils, ain't they?" he said. Gibbs grumbled for a bit, eventually nodding in agreement. They both went back to work, Hagman singing softly. 

Several minutes later, the two children emerged from the lower decks. Elizabeth was carrying something wrapped in a handkerchief. Will followed after her, hands clasped behind his back. She walked to the port side and held the handkerchief over it, opening it and letting the contents fall into the water below. 

Gibbs couldn't tell what the handkerchief had been holding, and he tried to quell the sinking feeling in his gut. The Governor walked towards them, and he moved closer to hear what they were saying. 

"And where did you two run off too?" The Governor asked, his tone jovial with an underlying concern. It seemed he had mixed feelings towards how well his daughter liked the boy. 

"Oh, Will's nails were getting too long. We went down and cut them," she told him. 

Gibbs clenched his teeth, and smacked his hand to his forehead. A line lying on the deck caught his foot, and he fell hard to the ground. 

A sailor is a bit like a Roman: always willing to swipe someone else's gods. The reason it's bad luck to cut hair or nails while on a ship comes down to Neptune and Prospernia. Nails and hair are offerings to Prospernia, a goddess obviously left out of the loop when the other gods went with money, virgins, goats, food, trading goods, songs, and land. Neptune gets uppity whenever someone makes an offering to Prospernia on his turf. The usual godly smiting follows. It's hard to imagine why anyone would be jealous of toenail clippings until a ship's regular offering to Neptune is taken into consideration. 

To say a ship had a "toilet" is perhaps being overly kind. Work from there. 

Gibbs groaned from the pain of the impact. Slowly, he pushed himself to his feet, biting his lip at the stinging sensation zipping along his body. He glared at Elizabeth Swann, only for a moment, before _very_ slowly walking back to his post. He grabbed the mop and bucket and began swabbing the deck. 

The repetition was soothing. He sighed, trying to calm himself. Elizabeth was a little girl who didn't know any better. She wasn't _trying_ to drive him crazy. Glancing up from his work, he checked to see where she was. 

He was safe. She was at the other end of the ship and didn't seem to be coming towards him. 

Looking up made him miss seeing Will Turner, who was barreling towards him from the side, trying to catch something Harris had dropped from the rigging. 

They collided, both falling to the ground. The mop went overboard. 

Will quickly got up, helping to get Gibbs upright as well. "I'm so sorry, sir," the boy said. Gibbs looked out at the sea, forlornly. "Is everything all right, sir?" he asked, very worried. 

"It's bad luck fer a mop to go overboard," Gibbs replied. His eyes started to tear. 

-^-^-^- 

By the time the ship docked at Port Royal, Gibbs was a raw bundle of nerves. That girl had managed to hit upon everything that could _possibly_ cause bad luck, and even a few he was sure were new ones. The Turner boy didn't help matters, either. She was twice as mischievous with him around. 

Gibbs stiffly walked off the ship, onto the dock. Elizabeth and Will smiled at him from where they stood, next to the luggage. He shivered, walking on. 

It was midday in Port Royal and the streets were bustling. He needed to find a tavern, and fast. Gibbs grabbed the arm of a passing stranger, a shady looking individual with wooden teeth and a deep scar running along the side of his face. 

"Friend, where is the nearest tavern?" he asked. Wheels clicked in the strangers head and a wicked gleam flickered in his eyes. 

The stranger raised a weathered, bony hand to point at an alley. "Down that ways, the alley comes out at a tavern," he replied, voice dripping with ill intentions. 

Gibbs was too desperately in need of alcohol to care. He ran off down the alley, not noticing the oppressive atmosphere that increased as he went on. When he saw five men blocked off the other end of the alley, he slowed. 

"What's this, then?" Gibbs demanded. 

The tallest of them stepped forward, saying, "We're in need of some extra hands for our ship." The man sneered, shadows falling on his face. "You're volunteering," he told Gibbs. 

Gibbs eyed them all. "What's this, a press gang?" he asked. 

The thug to the far left giggled stupidly, saying, "Press gangs are for the navy. We ain't about to impress' you fer the navy." Gibbs closed his eyes, swallowing to wet his parched throat. The men had to be pirates. 

"You thirsty?" asked the one to the right of the leader. 

Gibbs snorted. "I'd wager I am," he replied, a little hoarse. The man threw Gibbs a flask of rum. Gibbs gulped some down, before examining the flask. Then he looked at the pirates. Then at the rum. Then at the pirates again. "You don't let ten-year-old girls on your ship, do ye?" he cautiously asked. 

They all snorted and snickered. "No, we don't," the leader replied. "Bad luck to do that." 

There was a twinkle in Joshamee Gibbs's eye. "You'd never set sail on a Friday, the first Monday in April, the second Monday in August, or December thirty-first?" he asked. 

"Cor, what do you take us for? Them's bad luck days!" the leader spat, indignant at the very suggestion. 

"You wouldn't dare kill a dolphin, seagull, or albatross?" Gibbs added. 

"No!" the leader yelled. The pirate gang shuddered. 

Gibbs thoughtfully rubbed his chin. "Now you wouldn't consider passing a flag through a ladder's rungs, or repairing it on the quarterdeck? Likewise, you wouldn't let a man turn over a hatch, wear a dead sailors clothing on the same voyage he be dying on, let the rim of a glass ring out, or let a dog near fishing tackle?" he asked, without pausing to breath. 

It took the leader a moment to follow all of it. He slowly nodded, "Correct, we'd n'er consider any of those things on the ship," he told Joshamee. "I'd sooner hear church bells at sea, spot a cormorant, sail with a redhead and a flatfoot, or bring a priest onboard!" The group nodded to each other. 

The all looked expectantly at Joshamee. No one spoke for a minute, Joshamee fiddling with the flask's silver top. They leaned forward when he opened his mouth to speak. 

"Sign me up, then," said Gibbs, downing the rest of the rum. For the first time in weeks, he grinned. 

-^-^-^-^-^- 

_Author's Note:_ All the superstitions in this story are real. Harper and Harris are a very tiny tribute to _Sharpe_. Gotta love _Sharpe_. The 'Indefatigable' reference at the beginning was a tribute to _Hornblower_.


End file.
